Nothing cracks me up like politics. What I just said could be taken in a couple different ways, but cracking up laughing is actually what I meant. I don’t know about you, but after months of listening to pundits, analysts and poll watchers dissect every r
Nothing cracks me up like politics. What I just said could be taken in a couple different ways, but cracking up laughing is actually what I meant.
I don’t know about you, but after months of listening to pundits, analysts and poll watchers dissect every rumor, every controversy — and invent a few of their own — I’ve become disinterested. Not in the stories or the facts, but in the verbal volley between the two campaigns — confirming, denying, rejecting, or not commenting — and what voters are probably reading into that.
Just like e-mail messages whose tone can be interpreted based on something as arbitrary as capital or italic letters, a reader assigns a voice, a certain bravado, pitch or drawl in their head to everything they read. I know it’s not just me!
I’ll give you an example: Doesn’t the spokesperson responding to a criticism sound a bit hacked off or persnickety to you? It’s as if he or she is saying, “Duh, what a stupid question?” Or do they come across as a tad bit snooty, like they’re speaking in that “Pardon me, but would you please pass the Grey Poupon?” voice.
What about when it’s a spokesperson for your chosen candidate talking? Does he or she sound professorial or extremely laid back and cool like they’re all that and a bag of chips? Or do you hear a hallelujah chorus in the background and feel the sudden urge to make a sandwich (to go with those chips, of course)?
If a response ever sounded like a comeback to you or you read it and shouted, “That’s what I’m talking about!” and pumped your fist in the air, we’re kindred spirits. If you laughed out loud, then I know you’re feeling me.
But lately, I’ve tried to ignore the cacophony of written statements, apologies, denunciations and repudiations. When I’ve been successful at drowning them out, I have occasionally uncovered something rare: decency.
There was such a moment a week ago, when Arizona Sen. John McCain, the presumptive Republican presidential nominee, issued a statement calling the cover of The New Yorker magazine featuring the Obamas dressed as terrorists, offensive. The Obama camp issued a similarly worded statement.
In both camps, I imagine it must have been one of those moments when the stiff upper lips in the room felt vindicated for their adherence to political correctness.
And I bet at a water cooler in an office building somewhere, a lone person thought the imagery hilarious and endured an agonizing moment like the ones portrayed in those Southwest Airlines “Want to get away?” commercials.
Here’s what went through my mind: ‘This presidential race has a real shot at decency,’ mainly because of the tenor and convictions of the two men who look to be facing off in November.
The cover was offensive, that’s what both camps said. And there is only one way to read that statement. The word “offend” doesn’t leave wiggle room. People don’t hear it often, and when they do, it makes their ears pique with interest. What was offending? Who was the offender? It’s a word that carries the expectation of intelligence and not to be used as an opportunity to play on the fears of those who looked at that cover and thought, “Uh-huh. I knew it!”
We have a real shot, I hope, at making it to Election Day just tired from the long journey and not bloodied or bruised. This election has a real shot at being inclusive and drawing back the curtain to reveal today’s leaders, and the leaders of tomorrow.
And, if we’re really lucky, the candidates’ race, religion and age will seem like mere factoids, not deal-breakers or the butt-end of jokes, as we make our way to the polls in November.
The Chicago Urban League doesn’t endorse political candidates. But I hope that this election season will make people think twice about what they see, hear and read, and how much the voices in their heads influence them–that goes for the non-make-believe voices, too.
So, go ahead, chuckle to yourself, and enjoy that sandwich. This tennis match isn’t over yet, and you’re going to need to keep your strength up and your wits sharp.
The back and forth can crack you up, you know, if you let it, and I’m not talking about cracking up laughing.
Cheryle R. Jackson is the president of the Chicago Urban League. She can be reached at president@thechicagourbanleague.org.
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